Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

"I can't believe I've managed to get involved with someone I know. To be honest, after winning some money betting on horses with Viscount Vancent yesterday and unexpectedly discovering that I have some talent in judging horses, I was thinking of putting the case aside for a while and relaxing. But that viscount has also pestered me, insisting that I accompany him to help him choose which racehorses have potential."

Without interrupting the lively conversation, the girl also chimed in with her own joke.

“Mr. Singh, I don’t want my employer to be an ignorant, pleasure-seeking playmate for noble gentlemen.”

"I actually think it's quite nice to have one or two days like this every now and then."

During their conversation, Charlotte took out a pen and paper and wrote down a single word left on the silver foil in the blank space, showing it to the old detective for his close examination.

"I discovered this text by chance. I wonder if the knowledgeable Mr. Singh has any knowledge of history?"

Ultimately, the mystery needs to be solved. Although the girl prefers to be self-reliant, she doesn't mind learning from others' experiences.

Moreover, the art of language is a science in itself. She deliberately downplayed the special features of the characters, subtly hinting at the content she wanted to know. Since individual words cannot form sentences, they naturally would not arouse any intentional speculation.

“Although I have indeed read quite a few history books, this seems to be quite different from the existing font. Well, Ms. Watson, I think you won’t mind if I leave for a little while to look through some documents in the office.”

However, it is clear that even this famous detective from the Apennine Peninsula cannot ascertain the original meaning of this character.

"Of course, sir, please go ahead."

Having accepted this well-intentioned lie, as Singh ascended the stairs to the second floor and disappeared from sight, the poignant beauty who had remained silent until now lifted her skirt and sat down beside Charlotte. She then gently touched the words on the paper with her fingertips, murmuring softly as if in remembrance.

"This word means blood."

"It originates from a variant of the ancient Su language, and is mostly used on inscriptions on tombs, closely related to sacrifices and prayers..."

The voice was like flowing water, meandering through the valley, accompanied by a distant tone. Charlotte's thoughts gradually sank deeper and deeper, but when she opened her eyes again, she saw the beautiful woman extend her index finger and gently lift her chin.

Her pale purple lips parted slightly, and beneath her satin-black hair, her already dim and dull eyes revealed a trace of sorrow, as if she were pitying the dead and mourning the departed.

It's an inquiry.

"But it shouldn't be known or learned by ordinary people."

P.S.: Love you all, please give me votes and comments X﹏X

Chapter Seventeen: Potions and Ritual

Retracting her neck to avoid those slender knuckles, Charlotte braced herself against the chair with her hands, arching her back and leaning to the side, regaining her footing within half a foot.

Its exceptional flexibility is on full display.

Her heart raced, and before she could suppress her astonishment, she felt a little relieved when her fingertips brushed aside the holster and landed on the hammer of the revolver.

In fact, the girl noticed something amiss the moment she first glimpsed the beautiful woman: the frequency of her heartbeat, the rise and fall of her breathing, the abnormality in her body temperature. If it weren't for the action of turning the pages of a book, she would have almost mistaken the woman for an uncorrupted corpse.

Despite not forgetting the reminders of her senses, Charlotte would always subconsciously ignore the presence of the person after sensing something amiss, as if she were completely oblivious to their presence, as if no one was around.

Of course, when the other person sits nearby without you noticing and then lifts your chin, your physical and mental sensitivity overrides your dazed state and forces you to become alert.

Subconsciously labeling the former as extraordinary—perhaps this is a form of application of supernatural power? But since Singh calls her a benefactor, she probably wouldn't openly harm him.

She remained silent, only exchanging glances with the woman. After focusing her attention, the girl also noticed more details about the beautiful woman.

Lace trim adorned the brim of the hat, and the dark clothing completely concealed the skin below the neck. Even the exposed collarbone was covered by a scarf, with only a pure white chrysanthemum hanging on the chest, a stark contrast to the all-black silk attire.

Solemn, dignified, weathered—if one were to look at the object through the lens of a person, she would surely think of a funeral procession.

Perhaps seeing that Charlotte hadn't responded for a long time, a hint of confusion gradually appeared on his face.

"...I meant no harm."

The apology in her words quickly returned to Charlotte's face, replaced by composure and calmness.

As long as communication is possible, it means she can use it to guide the conversation, changing the dynamic from an active to a passive partner. This confidence comes from her profession, and she can hold her own even against those who are extraordinary.

"But, madam, your words clearly carry an accusatory tone."

She gathered her skirt, revealing the back of her hips and making her graceful curves faintly visible, and sat back down opposite the beautiful woman.

"I'm sorry, I just haven't had much conversation with real people lately. Those days made me used to being straightforward and I often overlooked the most basic etiquette."

“My name is Mozambique Ludwig, a cemetery caretaker and a funeral announcer.”

Extending her right hand, Madame Mossant was clearly trying to apologize to Charlotte; sincerity was evident in her dim eyes.

Just as I had guessed, this beautiful woman was quite different from the two immature birds. She exuded a subtle yet mature charm in every gesture.

Before speaking, she first looked at the slender hand wrapped in black gauze, its curves graceful, narrow and long, truly a work of art.

With a hint of admiration, Charlotte reached out her fingertips and briefly shook hands with him.

"Josephine Watson, that is my name."

In just a moment, the cold body temperature seeped through the gloves, causing the girl to choke and shudder.

Not only were her breathing and heartbeat so calm, but her body temperature was almost zero. Could it be that she was chatting with a female ghost?

Charlotte didn't dwell on the thought for long; she suppressed her discomfort and spoke first.

“Even if you, Ms. Mossant, ask me about this text, I did discover it by chance, just yesterday, during the course of the Charlie case.”

She highlighted her desires while downplaying her own role in the event, focusing instead on what she cared about most.

"No, that shouldn't be the case. Ordinary people rarely come into contact with it, nor would they deliberately study this kind of knowledge."

Listening in silence, Ms. Mossant only murmured a denial after the girl fell silent, expressing her confusion.

Seeing this, Charlotte took out her pen again and added seven strokes before each word to form the directional word 'Blue Blood'.

It was visibly that the black-haired beauty, who had been so adamant in her opinion, was stunned for a moment, as if she had suddenly realized something, or as if she couldn't believe it.

"There's an additional point to what I told Mr. Singh before: the fourteenth victim was a nobleman, the child of a nobleman who had lost his land."

By providing timely corroborating evidence and highlighting the language used, the girl gains an advantage in information, which becomes the leverage to gradually approach the truth.

Since Ms. Mosang, you haven't spoken to a living person in a long time, I'm going to use innuendo to let you experience the inducement and confusion of modern rhetoric.

You're a piece of cake with PUA.

Don't blame her for being excessive; blame her for the fact that the threshold of extraordinary power is so close, within reach, that she simply can't suppress her desire to improve.

"A ceremony akin to promotion, materials needed for refinement... could it really be...?"

Startled by this sudden information, Ms. Mosang became increasingly perplexed the more she pondered it. Finally, she sighed heavily and turned to look at the silver-haired girl.

"Ms. Watson, please tell me all those words."

It was a sincere request.

"Alright, but before that, I'd like to ask a question: why did Ms. Mossang entrust this case to Detective Singh?"

After noting down the words "ritual" and "ordeal," Charlotte didn't rush to read them aloud. Instead, she steered the conversation back to topics familiar to her side.

After a moment of silence, a voice slowly rose in the living room.

"...Because among those victims was one of my students, a brave and upright young woman who not only disregarded societal taboos and willingly helped me at the cemetery, but also diligently acquired knowledge during her university years in an effort to change her impoverished family."

The black-haired beauty's voice was somewhat hoarse. She covered her chest with her hand, making the sign of the cross, as if praying for her deceased lover.

“A life has passed away, and I will never hear her lively and cheerful voice again, like that of a little pony.”

Without disturbing the somber atmosphere, Charlotte waited for the woman to recover before taking out her handkerchief and offering it to her, saying...

"Well, actually, that's exactly why I hate those criminals who harm innocent people, and that's why I decided to become a detective."

As she spoke, she clenched her fists as if she were experiencing the same thing, her face turning slightly red, revealing genuine indignation.

There's no need to deliberately imitate her. She's gone, but if you resemble her even slightly, it will evoke memories and cause a moment of panic.

Staring blankly at Charlotte's pretty face, unaware that her handkerchief had fallen onto the table, Madam Mossant pursed her lips, but then looked away guiltily and whispered.

"No need, tell me what happened, Miss Watson."

"Well, besides the two words I just mentioned, there are actually quite a few more, but my memory isn't very good, so I might disappoint Ms. Mosang..."

Charlotte lowered her head slightly, revealing a hint of shame, and clutched the hem of her clothes, as if trying to suppress her inner fear.

The emotional rendering is just right. When an initial impression is deliberately established, and then similar behavior and words are given, each scene will deepen the established impression and fill the void in the heart. This kind of emotional attachment is commonly known as—

Meal replacement.

After a moment of choking back tears, as if trying to recall the scene, she slowly gripped the pen and wrote down the words on the silver foil with stumbling and pauses, as if she herself was not sure whether they were true or not.

Of course, she had already scrambled the words and broken down each word that could almost form a coherent meaning. If it were an ordinary person, they would naturally not be able to sort them out again, but this body's extraordinary memory allowed Charlotte to remember everything she saw.

There was no more sound of conversation; only the soft rustling of paper and pen accompanied my ears.

She paused after writing several more nonsensical words, looking at the woman sitting beside her with some unease for a moment.

"Is it finished?"

Trying to soften her voice as much as possible, Ms. Mosang took the girl's handwriting and carefully examined it.

The more she pondered, the more her brows furrowed. Finally, she lightly tapped the table, stood up, and said sternly.

"After that, you will no longer need to go to the crime scene or be responsible for this disappearance."

Even though the words were not coherent, Mosang could confirm that this was inextricably linked to the extraordinary. As for doubts and speculations?

As things stand, she doesn't think the girl in front of her is lying, nor does she feel that the other party is deliberately hiding anything. Besides, a person's memory is limited, and if it's just a coincidence, how could she possibly remember all the unfamiliar words?

Everything was perfectly reasonable. Moreover, this girl named Watson really resembled her student; she was just as upright and kind.

"So, because of me, the commission failed?"

Charlotte widened her eyes, feigning remorse, but seemed to have misunderstood, even biting her lips tightly.

"No, it's just that this matter is beyond your scope of handling."

Without thinking, she reached out and gently touched the girl's forehead. Seeing the water in the corner of her eyes, Ms. Mosang's gaze softened even more.

"But the payment for this job is very important to me. My sister is sick, and she needs..."

It was a heartfelt complaint.

"I will pay as usual, you don't need to worry about that."

“But, but, I can’t accept this reward with a clear conscience. It’s shameful for me to reap the benefits without sowing. I can’t continue living with a sense of indebtedness to others.”

Forcing a show of stubbornness, Charlotte suppressed her feigned vulnerability and looked directly at the dark-haired beauty.

"I want to do more for this case, I want to bring peace to the hearts of those girls who have passed away."

"..."

Unable to ignore the will in that gaze, after a long silence, Ms. Mosang sighed softly, succumbing to the influence of her emotions.

Even if it means losing freedom, even if it means heading towards an out-of-control future, even if it means walking with danger?

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Ms. Mossant, but I want to know the truth.”

Startled, she was once again moved by those brave and steadfast silver eyes. The black-haired beauty finally reached out her slender hand and pointed to the words written by the girl one by one.

"...Alright, these ancient Sue words, though incomplete, should still point to a magical potion that leads to a certain extraordinary path. If humans want to become extraordinary, they must drink the potion, complete the ritual, and follow the path of the ancient gods."

"And the so-called ritual is the core symbol of understanding this path, which is imitated and digested through words and deeds."

Chapter Eighteen: The True God and Pleas

Extraordinary beings, pathways, potions, rituals...

No longer hazy, no longer distant, the pilgrims, stumbling forward, have finally knocked on the door to the mysterious.

So, a smile came from his heart, his eyebrows and eyes beamed, yet he acted as if nothing had happened.

"Ms. Mossan, is everything you said true?"

Instead of showing joy, Charlotte simply opened her eyes wide, her raven eyelashes fluttering, like any ordinary person who is encountering an extraordinary world for the first time and finding it hard to believe.

“…Miss Watson, I understand how you feel. When old beliefs are shattered, anyone would fall into self-doubt.”

Accompanied by a distant female voice, a pair of icy hands reached over the neck and shoulders and gently cupped the girl's cheeks from in front of her.

“I have touched hard, regretful, and rambling tombstones, as well as soft, sorrowful, and trembling shoulders.”

"Exhale, look into my eyes, and slowly relax."

Looking up into the dark-haired beauty's inky eyes, just like the comfort in her words, the girl's tension eased, and her thoughts returned to peace, as if she were gazing into the long, dark night in the dead of night.

Are you feeling better now?

"Phew, thank you, Ms. Mozanne."